Whisper
by emeralazzaly
Summary: Sequel to "Dark Side": After an unfortunate series of events, Josie finds herself in an unpleasant situation as she tries to come to terms with what being in this house means, as well as loving her dead boy Tate Langdon. Not putting much in the description as to not ruin the story line for those reading the first story.
1. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer: Obviously I do not own Tate Langdon or any of the characters from the show American Horror story. I also do not own any of the music or movies used here. There are several facts and quotes also from AHS that I did not come up with. However, Josie and her family and friends are my own creation. This is rated M for sexual situations, language, and some violence. Hope you enjoy! Please feel free to review! (Title is a song by Evanescence: Whisper)**_

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I found myself sitting on my bed, legs crossed, staring at the door ahead of me. I wasn't sure how I had gotten there. I wasn't sure how long I'd been sitting there. It occurred to me that time really wasn't important anymore. Tate had been right. Once you were dead, there was no reason to keep track. There was an infinite amount of time on your hands, plenty of time to do whatever you wanted. Plenty of time to drown in your sorrows and disappointments, looking over your life at what you could have done differently. Wishing that you had.

It was so depressing. I could drown in it.

I wanted to see Dillon. I wanted to see my father. My friends. It'd been a month or so since I'd died, maybe more cause I wasn't keeping count of the days anymore. I'd been avoiding Tate and everyone else in the house. I was trying to come to terms with what was going on. To what I would do with the rest of my time here in the house. To admit to myself that I was….I still couldn't say it. Would they clear out my room? So far they hadn't touched anything. It was exactly how I had left it. Would they move out? If they did, I'd never see them again. Would a new family move in? If so, would Tate find someone else to love, someone else who intrigued him?

Surely I was no fun anymore. I was dead now. Just like him. I wasn't special anymore.

My heart hurt, deeply. It felt like I was breaking from the inside out as I sat there, contemplating what the future held. I should be alive in this room. I should be here with Tate, both of us alive and planning for our time together. We would never get married, never have babies. Never grow old together on the old back porch swing.

He'd come to me several times since I'd woken up, asking me to sit with him. Sometimes I would do it, yearning to be near him but freaking out whenever he would touch me. The warmth of him was so foreign to me. I couldn't seem to adjust to it and would find myself somewhere else suddenly, always unwanted. Always crying.

My eyes shifted to the cold steel in my hand, the small sharp square that I'd come to enjoy over the past while. It was the only way I'd found myself to feel alive again, even though it was just an illusion. I'd lost count of how many times I'd slid it across my arm, my wrist, to watch the crimson drops fall to the floor. My eyes focused only on the deception of reality, concentrated on how it flowed from my body, down my skin, and onto the floor. Within minutes, however, it would heal up. I no longer scarred, it was as if it never happened. If Tate didn't interfere, I could do this several times and lose myself in it, almost convince myself that it was real, escaping away from this sick despair.

As I was considering it again, I could hear the floorboards of my room creaking now, signaling that _he_ was here. My sweet Tate.

I didn't feel that familiar chill down my spine, the one that encouraged my hairs to stand on end when I was alive. The one that told me he was here, even if I didn't see him. But I could feel him in the room with me, stalking me, watching me.

He stepped out of the shadows, much like he'd done before, and came to stand at the edge of the bed. He looked awful, like he'd not slept in days, not that the dead slept but you get the idea. His eyes were red rimmed, pink and bloodshot as he looked at me, his clothing disheveled, down to his ripped jeans and worn converse. My heart flipped when I laid eyes on him, yearning to jump up and wrap my arms around him, but not ready to feel the w_armth _of him.

"Hey," he said, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Hey."

He reached into my hand and took the blade away from me, "Stop mutilating yourself like that."

"It's the only way I can feel alive again," I hissed.

He took the blade and tossed it into the trashcan beside the bed, "You're too good for that shit."

I glared at him, not wanting to talk about this again. I could do what I wanted. I thought I'd made myself clear.

"Are you mad at me?" he asked.

"No."

He furrowed his eyebrows, confusion creeping up into his face as he looked at me, "Do you want me to go away? I don't understand what you want, Josie."

I moved over to where he was and perched on the end of the bed, feet dangling off of it. He was so close to me. All I had to do was reach out and touch him, "I just…I can't stand this. Is it going to be like this always?"

"Like what?"

I shook my head, "I don't know…weird?"

"It is weird at first, being dead. But you start getting used to it," he said.

"Every time you touch me, it feels so alien."

Tate moved closer to me until he was only inches away, the tears rising in his eyes, "I wish there was something I could do. I miss you, Josie. I miss us. You've been so distant."

"I know, I'm sorry. It's forever now, ya know? We won't get married, we won't have children…we won't grow old."

"But we will be young forever, Josie. Strong and resilient. Together. That's all that matters to me."

"I'm so sad."

"Me too," he replied, reaching out a shaky hand to my face. I could see him gulp nervously as he skimmed the back of his fingers softly down my cheek, afraid that I would disappear on him. I closed my eyes, savoring the feel of him. This is what it would have felt like if I'd met him when he was alive. Warm. Normal. This was my Tate. The one who had been there for me, loved me, changed for me. He felt different, but he was the same person I'd fallen in love with. I fought the urge to pull away when he lowered his lips to mine cautiously, kissing me softly. It was so familiar. The taste of his lips on mine. Peppermint and vanilla. But it was slightly different now due to the change in temperature, reminding me that I was…

I pulled back from him, putting my hand up to his chest to stop him, "I'm not ready, Tate. I can't."

"Please don't leave me again," he begged and moved his hands to tangle in my hair and draw me back to him. He kissed me again, still careful and easy as to not scare me away. I could feel him holding back, wanting so much more out of this but not wanting to push me past what I was comfortable.

I didn't want to leave him. I didn't know how I'd left him before. My body just disappeared when I got too scared, too overwhelmed. But with him here now, soft lips on mine, I felt more at home here than I had since I woke up in the basement, happier than I had been avoiding him and everyone else over the past few weeks. I sighed against his mouth and tried to make myself relax in his hands, the ones that were pulling me closer to him, caressing me delicately. My hands went up to curve around his neck and I kissed him back, opening my mouth to allow him access. We hadn't kissed like this in forever and it was my fault.

It felt so good. So much more intense than it had when I was alive. And my body was reacting quicker than it used to, heat spreading out from my stomach to the rest of my body. He moved his kisses down my neck, settling on the side of my neck underneath my ear in that sensitive spot that I liked. As he did, one of his hands fluttered down my body and settled in between my legs. Low, desperate sounds escaped from my mouth as he pressed two of his fingers against me through the soft fabric. I wanted him so badly, needed him to be here with me, make me feel alive again. And he was. Somehow. My body was a trembling mess in his hands, taking me back to a simpler time with him. I thought I'd lost myself in the depression and loneliness here in this house. It was an easy thing to do, none of the others here were happy. They all drowned in their sorrows. But Tate was reviving me, awakening my body and my heart as his mouth became more urgent against my skin.

I felt his teeth graze along my shoulder, sending chills up my spine as I grasped for him, pulling myself closer to him. I pushed his shirt out of the way and ran my hands along his body, my nails grazing along him.

"Harder," he moaned.

"I don't want to hurt you."

"We can do whatever we want to, Josie. Nothing can hurt us."

I shook my head, remembering how hard I had pushed him against the wall when I first woke up, not meaning to hurt him, "No, I can't I'm sorry."

"Okay well, do you trust me?" he asked, pulling back to look at me.

I could feel my heart rate speeding up at that look he was giving me, his dark eyes so serious with a tint of dangerousness in them. I did trust him didn't I? I had at one point, unconditionally and maybe a little carelessly. But he'd only ever lied to protect me, in his own way he did love me. I knew he wouldn't hurt me. I'd always felt safe when he was in the room, just knowing that he was there made me feel like there was nothing in the world that could hurt me. I'd inflicted pain on myself all this time, no one else, and it always healed. Finally I forced the words out, "Yes."

Tate bit his lip, lowering his head so he was looking up at me from underneath his eyelids. He looked as if he was contemplating something, arguing with himself on the inside, "You gotta trust me, Josie. There's something I want to try."

"Oh-okay," I stuttered, taken aback when he slammed his lips back on mine, bruising them and making me lose my breath. He groaned into my lips, hand moving up to entangle in the hair at the base of my head. His other hand continued to move in hard, slow circles between my thighs. He gave a slow pull on my hair, forcing my head backwards as he made his way down my neck again and back onto my shoulder. He was planting kisses there, humming something along my skin and making me close my eyes. I was losing myself in him, breath coming in deep loud sounds from my throat. Forgetting about my circumstances, only concerned about the hands that were moving on my body, unzipping my hoodie and throwing it off the bed. His hand trailed back up my arm and pushed my bra strap off of my shoulder.

I clutched at his shirt to keep myself from falling over onto the bed from the amount of pleasure that was spreading itself through my body. I'd never experienced anything so amazing before. It was as if my body was buzzing with need, melding into one being with him. He nipped at my skin once more and I almost lost myself completely. He chuckled into my shoulder, pleased that he was making me writhe underneath him and we weren't even naked yet. Placing his mouth against the spot where my shoulder and my neck met, he swirled his mouth around the spot twice before biting the skin there. Sinking his teeth into my body hard enough to make me cry out, feel the blood trickle down my chest. The pain was sharp, fast, making sink my nails into his back.

He literally growled against my skin, tongue swirling to lap up the red substance before running it down my chest, his hand pressing firmly on my lower regions. He glanced back up at me, eyes dark and hungry, "Are you okay?"

I nodded but was unable to answer him because he was pushing me back onto the bed, crawling on top of me and pressing me into the soft fabric of the comforter. He moved quickly, pushing my jogging pants down and off of me, taking my panties with them. He removed his shirt with one quick swoop over his head and laid back down on top of me, forcing my legs apart with his knees.

My body shivered underneath him, not from his coldness, but rather the intense feeling of his fingers moving down my stomach and moving one finger in between my legs. He kissed me, hard and desperate on the lips. In that moment, it was just me and Tate, alone in the darkness that threatened to swallow us both up.

I moaned out against him, hot and ready as always against him. It was surprising to me, that I was wet against his hand, my body as awake as it had ever been, mores maybe. He pushed another finger into me, pumping against me and moving his thumb to rub across my sweet spot.

"We can still stop if you want."

"No," I whispered, burying my face in his hair and closing my eyes. This was Tate. I was safe. He wasn't going to hurt me. The feelings were the same, even though the temperature was different. It was a new feeling with him inside me, something hotter, something more raw and needy erupting from my lips as I cried out for him. He kept stroking me, kept working me in that way he knew I liked, until I gasped out under him, grinding my hips against him uncontrollably.

It seemed unreal as I felt my body lift off the sheets, seeming to float in air as I felt myself clench around his fingers, spasming around him and screaming his name for the world to hear.

I kissed him, claiming his lips as mine and moving my hands down to his pants, dying to having him naked against me. I could hear him groaning under my touch, my fingers undoing his jeans and pushing them off of him, along with his boxers. He sprang up, ready and hard as always and I ran my hand along him.

"Yeeeeees," he mumbled and captured my lips with his, nibbling at my lower lip and sighing as he broke the skin there.

It sent chills down my body, vibrations taking me over as I cowered under him. He buried himself within me, feeling better than he had ever before, better than I had remembered, both of us letting out a mutual moan as he pushed himself as far inside of me as he could go, "Shit, Josie, you are so tight. Fuck."

He gave a few slow movements before he lost himself, filling me up, slamming into me, over and over again, hard and fast. It was then that I realized how gentle he'd been with me when I was alive, although he'd left me sore and bruised the afterwards, it was nothing in comparison to the way he was working me now.

I found myself screaming out underneath him, his name, unintelligible words, holding onto his body so I wouldn't bounce too high up off the bed. I had to stop my own rocking and wrap my legs around him to steady myself, let him take complete control as I felt the pressure building again. It was more intense this time, his body sliding in out of mine, and creating a friction that was so hot, my body burning below him. The room grew smoldering hot, making me gasp for air and feel the sweat trickling from Tate's body and onto mine. The passion igniting a fire within me and based on the look on his face, he was feeling it too. But I had to ask, make sure.

"Shit, Tate, do you feel that?"

"Oh god yes, Josie, you feel amazing," he growled, kissing me and consuming me, burning throughout my body, painful, sweet, satisfying. I cried out again for him and let myself go, coming undone and relishing in the pleasure that was pouring over me like honey. Sticky, sweet. Tate groaned, deep and manly and gave one last thrust before he collapsed on top of me.

"Oh my god, Tate, what was that?"

"Unfuckingbelievable, that's what," he answered, panting and raising up enough to look down at me. He licked his lips and moved a hand up to wipe the sweat off his brow, push his damp hair out of the way.

He was so sexy as he moved, slick and wet with perspiration and smelling of sex. I grabbed for his hair, pulling him down to kiss him passionately and move my hips against him. I moaned into his mouth, begging him to take me again. I wasn't done. There was this animalistic urge inside of me, needing him to fill me, work me until we were both absolutely spent.

Tate pulled back from me, "Give me a second, Josie, I need a minute to-"

I kissed him again, not letting him finish that sentence, and rolled over on top of him. I ran my hands down his hard body until I reached the only soft part of him, gripping him in my hand and moving back and forth. I wasn't done and he wasn't going to be either. I hadn't felt this urgency ever. I kissed a trail down his chest, stopping to wrap my mouth around him.

"Mmmmmmmm," he mumbled, head laying back on the bed and closing his eyes.

It didn't take long for him to grow hard again. I looked up at him, delighted that it didn't take him long to recover. I swirled my mouth around him a few more times, loving the pleased look on his face, before moving back up his body. I bent down to run my tongue over his neck, tasting the saltiness of him and nipping at his shoulder as he had done to me earlier, but without breaking the skin. I felt his hands caressing my sides, pressing against my hips and lowering me onto him.

"Uhhhh," I moaned, sitting up and throwing my head back as I felt him fill me once again. He felt so good, so amazing, so warm against me and I couldn't stand it. It was almost too good, too much to handle as I moved on top of him.

He skimmed his hands up my body, running his knowing fingers along every inch of me until he pulled me back down to him, "You are so beautiful. I'm never going to get enough of you."

"I'm so horny Tate," I breathed, "ever since I woke up, all I can think about is this."

"I know you have, I've been watching you…. Uhhhh _fuck."_

I thought he had been. I had thought I'd felt his eyes on me as I lost myself in fantasies of him in the darkness, moving my fingers along my own skin until I was panting, moaning out his name. But I hadn't cared at the time, falling into fits of tears when I was done and wishing he was there with me, that it was him sending me into waves of pleasure. It'd been such a dark time over the past few weeks. I'd been all alone, but not really. He'd always been there, watching me and making sure that I was safe, but not saying anything so as to give me my space.

I felt the blush rising up in my cheeks, "Were you the same way when you…when you died?"

"Stop talking," he grumbled and pulled me back down to meet his lips. He moved against me now, with me, rocking my hips in his rough hands until we were both writhing in pleasure on the bed.

I rolled off of him and struggled to breathe, "Is it ever going to calm down?"

"A little," he said, pulling me into the bend of his arm and running his finger lightly down my arm.

"Tate, I could go again. I'm not even kidding."

"Just give me a minute."

"You said that before, you didn't need it."

He smiled, grin stretching across his face and making his dimples stand out more on his face, "I just want to enjoy this. I've missed you. I'm also glad I don't have to go back to jerking off multiple times a day for the rest of forever."

"It's like I'm burning from the inside out."

"I know."

"No really, it's painful. I need you. I want you, Tate."

He sat up in the bed and looked down at me, feigning irritation, "Ya know, I didn't have anyone to satisfy that feeling when I died."

"Tate, please."

"Please what?"

"_Fuck me._"

He rolled his eyes and jumped over on top of me playfully, settling between my legs again and wrapping his arms around me, "Well I can't say no to that can I?"

* * *

**AN:**

**Okay so I had originally contemplated writing about the time they were apart but I just couldn't stand to write several weeks worth of happenings without Tate, my bad. ;) Didn't think you guys would care!  
**

**I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of the sequel, I know all looks well and good for the two of them but you know me, I can't let my characters be happy to long before I throw something awful their way !  
**

**3 -Emera  
**


	2. Chapter 2

"So what now?" I asked, plopping down on the floor beside Tate, watching him shuffling the cards eagerly and raising an eyebrow at him.

"You draw a card, and discard," he explained, as if we were really talking about cards.

I slapped the deck out of his hand and glared at him, "You know that's not what I mean."

He shrugged, smiling and reaching out to start picking up the cards, "We can do whatever you want to do. We have forever. Just us, same as it's always been."

"Can we have sex again?"

"You really are insatiable," he laughed, shaking his head at me as if he wasn't considering it.

"Don't make me feel like an animal, Tate."

"You are an animal. Using me for your selfish needs."

"You're so full of shit," I exclaimed and took the cards out of his hands. I set them down on the ground and pulled myself up into his lap. I placed my knees on either side of his waist and wrapped my arms around his neck.

His smile faded, replaced with that solemn frown. He reached up to brush a stray strand of hair out of my face and tucked it behind my ear, "I love you." It was more like a plea, painful and desperate as it left his lips.

"I know."

It was obviously not the answer he wanted to hear, judging by the tears swelling up in his eyes. He wiped at his eyes, trying to hide the tears that were sliding down his face, "Wanna try something new?"

"Yes," I said, nodding my head in agreement and hoping he had something else dirty in mind.

Instead, he picked me up out of his lap and stood up. "Come here," he whispered, pulling me up to my feet and taking both of my hands. "I don't know if this will work but I'm going to try."

He closed his eyes for a second and I did the same, copying him and wondering what he was going to do. His hands gripped mine tightly and it felt as if we were suddenly nowhere. No floor below us, nothing around us for a split second before I felt the ground under my feet again.

"Bad ass," he laughed.

I opened my eyes to see him smiling at me, pleased with himself. My hands were still grasping his as if we were still going to fall. We were in the corner of my brother's room and he had brought us here. I could tell where we were because of the light blue coloring of the room, train border around the top of the walls near the ceiling.

Tate took one of his hands away from me and raised it to his lips, motioning for me to be quiet. I nodded and he pointed behind me. Turning around slowly, I let my eyes take in the reason for why we were here.

Dillon was curled up on his bed, surrounded by stuffed animals, and eyes focused on the book in his hands. He was reading out loud, one word at a time, pausing to sound out the more complicated words that I would usually read to him.

My hand flew up over my mouth to hide the gasp coming from me. I felt like I hadn't seen him in months and I wanted so desperately to cross the room and go to him. I felt my foot step forward, but Tate pulled me back into the corner. He wrapped his arms around me from behind and whispered in my ear, "You can't let him see you."

"I know. I just want to be closer to him."

"He's fine right now, don't make this harder on yourself or him."

"Why'd you bring me here?"

He ran his fingers down through my hair as we stood and watched my brother struggle to sound out the next word of the book, "Because you wanted to see him."

"He looks so lonely. Dad should be reading to him."

"He's lost in his own grief."

"I should have went out with Dad that night. We shouldn't have been home."

"Don't blame yourself for this," Tate whispered and planted kisses in my hair, "It's my fault, I should have been there to protect you."

"Who's going to protect him now…"

Dillon looked up from his book, moving his eyes around the room and paused at the corner where we were. I froze, waiting for him to recognize us. For a moment, I swore he was looking right into my eyes. For a moment I was happy, excited that I was going to get to talk to him. But he went back to his book, slamming it closed in frustration and pushing it to the floor. He pulled his little legs up to himself and buried his face in his knees. I could hear the small cries coming from him as his body started to shake.

"I can't watch this," I said, turning away to get some air.

Tate grabbed my arm, "Hold on. Stay here."

I watched as his body kind of fizzled as he sat down on the bed, becoming visible to my brother as he became solid again, "Hey little guy."

Dillon looked up at him and gave a small smile, "Hey Tate."

"How ya holding up?"

"I'm okay."

The tears started forming in my eyes as I watched the two of them, my brother's lower lip quivering as he answered Tate. They sat in silence for a few minutes, Dillon chewing at his bottom lip to keep from crying more as the older boy reached up to brush some hair out of his face. I was dying to be him, yearning to be the one comforting the little child, be the one who could brush the hair from his eyes.

"Lift up your hands," I heard Tate instruct, glancing over at me quickly and back to Dillon.

Dillon did as he was asked, placing both hands face up in front of him, "I don't want to play right now."

"It's a new game. I think you'll like it."

"Don't think so."

"Just close your eyes, there ya go, okay now count to ten." He looked over to me, signaling for me to come to where he was. I shook my head, not ready to be so close, not sure that I could keep myself invisible to my little brother. Tate held up his hands in front of me, mirroring the small boys' posture.

"I'll ground you," he mouthed, motioning for me to come closer.

I obliged, walking over to where he was sitting on the bed and holding my hands out towards him. He took my hands in his, lacing his fingers with mine and closing his eyes. I did the same and felt a sudden tingling sensation take over my body. When I opened my eyes again, I was sitting on the bed where he had been sitting.

_What the-_

I turned my head to the left, seeing Dillon open up his big blue eyes and look at me, "What now. This is boring."

I heard Tate chuckle, coming from my own mouth as I watched the hands in front of me move to be palm down, "Put your hands under mine."

My brother rolled his eyes but did as Tate asked, "Okay, now you gotta try to slap my hands."

"Sissy and I used to play this. I don't wanna play with you."

My heart lurched forward in my chest, breaking as his baby blues filled up with tears again, "Just one game." The words were mine, but the voice belonged to Tate. How was he doing this and what was going on?

"Okay, I guess," Dillon said, moving his hands underneath mine. He eyed me suspiciously before moving his hands to slap the top of mine. He won, simple and quick as that, because I was so enamored by seeing him again, being so close to him.

"That was easy," he said, scowling at me, that look that I'd given so many people before. I knew he'd gotten it from me.

I closed my eyes, fighting back the tears that were stinging at me, reminding me that things would never be the same with Dillon. When I opened them, I was leaning over the bed, hand in Tate's large warm hands. His eyes were on mine and he smiled before turning back to my brother, "You got me, dude."

I backed away from them, still unsure of what happened until I tripped over one of the toys in the floor.

"What was that?" Dillon asked, eyes looking over to where I was standing.

I closed my eyes again, hoping he didn't see me. When I opened them this time, I was back in my bedroom by myself. I let out a sigh of relief and plopped down on the bed.

* * *

Later on, I was curled up in a corner of the basement with a blanket and a good book when I heard someone coming down the stairs. Out of habit, I made myself invisible and continued to engross myself in the book.

"She's got that perpetual scowl on her face. It's disturbing," I heard a girl say as she reached the bottom of the stairs.

"She smiles for me."

_Tate._ I looked up to see the two of them walking into the room and across from where I was.

"Must only be for you. She's a freak," the girl said.

Tate sat down in the chair against the wall and shot her the death look, "Watch your mouth."

"Sorry, sweetie, it's the truth," the girl said, moving over to stand directly in front of the chair. She was young, just a few years older than me and she was clad in a white nurse uniform.

"What did you want, exactly?"

The girl pushed her lifeless brown hair behind her back and unbuttoned the top couple of buttons on her white smock, "Well, you're going to have to say something to her eventually or she's going to find out from someone else."

"I know, I'm just trying to prepare myself."

"She's not going to be happy."

"Will you shut up? I've got this under control."

The girl shook her head and moved herself over into Tate's lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned over to him, whispering in his ear, "Come on Tate, don't you want a little something different? It will be so lonely when she tells you to go away again."

"I'm not into it."

She ran her finger down his chest, curving it into the top of his jeans, "You know you want it."

"Quit it!" he exclaimed, pushing her off of him and standing up, "I'm in love. Leave me the hell alone. All of you. And Josie too. Don't you dare think of messing with her."

The girl giggled, "You are going to have to tell her sometime."

I slammed my book down on the ground, furious at this girl for putting the moves on my man and wanting to know what she was talking about. Both of them jumped and looked over at me, surprise on their faces.

"Tell me what?" I demanded, putting my hands on my hips and looking back and forth at them.

"Go on, tell her," the brunette urged, raising her hand to rest it on Tate's lower back.

He tore his eyes away from me and shoved his hands in his pockets, looking at the ground as if something very interesting was sitting there. I walked over to him and grabbed the girls arm, wrapping my fingers around it tightly and squeezing it, "Keep your hands off of him."

"What the hell, I was just playing around," she said, trying to jerk out of my hands.

I shoved her arm away from me and turned back to the blonde haired boy beside me, "So?"

"So what?" he asked innocently, boyish smile returning to his face. He removed one of his hands from his pocket and ran it through my hair, stopping at the ends of the black strands and knotting his fingers in it. He pulled me to him and ran his other arm around my waist. Tate lowered his mouth to mine and kissed me, sweetly, quickly taking entrance with his tongue. I closed my eyes and leaned into him, almost pushing the irritated thoughts out of my head. Almost.

He gave a groan of protest as I pulled back from him and put my hands up on his chest to keep him from kissing me again, "What am I going to be pissed about?"

"Oh that."

"Yeah, _that."_ I raised my eyebrow at him and started tapping my foot impatiently on the floor as I waited for him to answer me.

He took my face in his hands, making me look into his dark eyes. He ran his tongue over his lips, wetting them before he spoke again, "Look, don't freak out okay?"

"Okay."

"That guy that killed you? He's here."

"He's what!?"

He tightened his hold on me when I tried to pull away from him, "I'm not going to let him hurt you okay? He won't get near you."

"What the hell is he doing here?"

"He died here, Josie."

"Shit, Tate! What happened to him?"

His eyes shifted off of mine for a second, biting his lip and thinking about what he was going to say before looking back at me, "That night's kind of a blur, ya know? I was too worried about you to really see what else was going on."

"Damn it, that's not good enough! That means I am stuck here with him!"

"You're not the only one honey," another voice said from behind me.

Tate pulled me to him, enveloping me in the curve of his arm and growing serious, "Shut your mouth you damn queen."

The man with the dark blonde hair laughed, "Almost all of us are stuck here with the one that killed us. Your little princess isn't any different."

"This is none of your business."

"Unfortunately for you, you made it my business when you murdered me," he growled, taking a step towards us and balling his fist.

"Just leave us alone," I said, pulling myself out from Tate's strong grasp and stepping in front of him.

"You two are delusional if you think you will be happy here together forever. It's disguising."

"You're just jealous that you and your _boyfriend_ aren't getting it on," Tate laughed.

The man stepped forward again and I took a step back, bumping into Tate and taking his hand, "Don't take another step."

"It's so cute how you let her stand in front of you and protect you. You cowardly piece of shit. Be a man!"

"Listen, we are going to be stuck here together forever. Don't you get it? _Forever._ Leave us alone and we will leave you alone," I said, putting my hands up in a defenseless manner, "Okay?"

He paused, cocking his head to the side, "Huh, well what do we have here? A peacemaker? Good luck with that. It won't get you far in this house."

I squeezed Tate's hand and let the irritation show in my face, "I'm nice until you push me too far. You don't want to go there."

I gave him one last glare before I walked away from him towards the stairs, dragging Tate along behind me.

* * *

**Hey guys! Sorry it's taken so long for me to get this chapter up! I'm such a slacker! Will hopefully have more up soon! 3 Keep up the reviews, I love your input you guys are amazing! **


	3. Chapter 3

"Come on, there's something I want to show you," Tate whined, pulling at my arm playfully.

"Do I have to get up?" I asked, moving to prop myself up on my elbow in the center of my room. I hit the pause button on my Ipod and shut my book.

"Yes you do."

"Can't we just keep reading? I was having fun reading."

He gave another tug on my arm, "No."

"Ugggg," I groaned, sitting up and letting him pull me to my feet, "This better be good."

"You can't spend all of forever in this room. You are going to get depressed again. How many times have you read that book?" he insisted, dragging me out of the room and into the hallway. I followed him down the stairs and around the corner, avoiding any of my family as we stepped outside into the backyard.

"Wow, look, it's my back yard."

"Don't be so cynical," Tate said.

I focused my eyes on where we were going, the tree in the far corner of the yard by the fence, the one that was tall and round, limbs reaching up into the blue sky towards the sun that was beating down on us. At the base of the tree was a blanket and a book, sitting and waiting for us. Tate let go of my hand and ran over to the pile of things and threw himself to the ground. He smiled up at me excitedly as I walked over and took a seat beside him.

"What's so amazing that we couldn't see it from my window?"

He pulled me into his embrace, back up against the trunk of the tree, and wrapped his arms around me, "The sun, the birds."

"Screw birds."

"I'm hurt. Deeply."

"Whatever," I said, rolling my eyes and reaching out for the book in front of us. I read the title aloud, "Birds of America. Fabulous."

Tate rested his chin on my shoulder, looking over it and at the book. He opened it in my hand, fingers skimming through the pages until he settled on one. "Allen's hummingbird, easily distinguished by his red face. Like that one over there," he said, pointing across the way at the bird zipping through the air, wings fluttering incredibly fast.

"He's pretty."

"Like you," Tate said, taking the opportunity for easy flattery and planting a kiss on my cheek. He flipped the page, pointing to another bird, "What about this one?"

"Pacific-slope Flycatcher. Nice," I said, moving my eyes to look around the yard. It took me a few minutes to find one, settling on the brown and yellow bird perched on the front porch, "Over there."

Tate followed my gaze over to the bird, "Awesome, see, you're a regular bird watcher."

The bird seemed to hear us talking about him because he turned his head towards us. He cocked it to the side before ruffling his feathers and flying off.

"There he goes," I said.

"He's free to do that ya know, he's not stuck here. Gravity doesn't hold him back," Tate whispered, breath warm on my neck. He clutched me tighter as he continued to talk about the bird, poetic ramblings flowing from his mouth like velvet. He had an author's soul, dark and depressed, but in awe of nature, of the things she offered us. It wasn't often that I got to see him like this, vulnerable as he discussed his inspiration from the things around him. It was beautiful.

I leaned back into his embrace, closing my eyes and letting his words travel through my ears. It was moments like this that things were perfect. Just me and Tate. Screw the rest of the world. Forget that we were both dead and stuck on this property. Who cared that he'd done horrible things, that my family was alive and hurting because they'd lost me. We were just two crazy kids, spending time together, lost in our own world, our paradise. I took his hand in mine and caressed it with the finger of my right hand, trailing it over his scared wrists and over his palm, along his fingers and around his thumb ring.

"I'm going to keep you safe you know," he said and planting kisses in my hair.

"As safe as you can keep a dead girl."

"You won't ever be alone, as long as that's what you want. I will always be here."

I turned my head to where I could see him. He smiled at me, slightly but happy, dark eyes focusing on me as he talked. He kissed me softly, his lips brushing mine enough to feel them on me. That's all it took for him to draw me in, those eyes, those lips, that smile. And I was a goner.

The thing was, I still wasn't sure if that was a good thing.

* * *

I could do this on my own, I was convinced of it as I heard the front door slam. I was in the kitchen, perched on one of the counters, my legs dangling off of it and swaying back and forth. My fingers found the frayed edge of my black dress, fiddling with it in an attempt to calm my nerves as I waited. It'd been one of my favorites when I was alive, casual and comfortable but short enough for me to have to fight my dad to let me wear it out. Now, I could wear whatever I wanted and he couldn't say anything.

This was always my dad's first destination after work, feigning for his late afternoon coffee to unwind. He walked into the kitchen as if on cue, past me and reaching into the cabinet for a coffee mug. He settled on one and turned to the coffee machine to my left. He was close enough for me to reach out and touch him as he loaded the machine and pushed the appropriate buttons.

I closed my eyes, taking in the familiar scent of my father, aftershave, his favorite cologne, cotton, coffee, and home. It made my heart ache, for the things we hadn't gotten to settle, things we hadn't gotten to talk about. We could now, but I couldn't reveal myself to him yet. I had to make sure he could handle it before I did.

For now this was enough, just to see that he wasn't a sniveling mess due to the loss of his daughter. He was able to continue with work and his daily routine. That was a good thing, I decided.

He loosened his tie to make himself more comfortable and took a long sip of his coffee, that familiar slurping sound coming out of him as he did so. He sat the mug back down on the counter and let a loud sigh. My dad leaned over onto the counter, his elbows propping him up enough to put his head in his hands. He was breathing deeply, in and out as if to steady himself. When he looked up, there were tears in his eyes, "Pull yourself together, you have to be strong for Dillon during Christmas time."

He wasn't talking to anyone in particular, but it told me a few things. I'd been gone for almost two months, and he was hurting. He was hiding it, always worried about his kids first, but being in this house was getting to him. Losing me wasn't helping any.

I could feel my heart breaking as he struggled to pull himself together, mumbling to himself and finishing off his coffee. I bit my lip, trying to hold back the tears as I reached out a fearful hand to him. My shaky finger brushed his shirt, trailing down his arm slowly and dropping back down to my side. I wished I could do something to ease his pain. I would've given anything to take away those tears he was trying to fight back.

He paused when I touched him, looking around to see if he had imagined it. He shook his head to clear it when he didn't find anything, gathering his coffee mug and leaving the kitchen. I wanted to follow him, even though it may not be the best thing for either of us. I fought with myself for a few minutes, trying to decide if I should just go away or follow him.

I hopped down off the counter, deciding to go with the later. Before I could take a step, however, there was a hand on my wrist, pulling me backwards and against their chest.

"Don't go," I heard Tate whisper softly into my ear.

"I can't stand this shit, Tate."

He nuzzled my ear with his nose, letting the breath travel into my ear again and sending chills down my spine, "Stay with me."

I turned around to face him, "He's so hurt."

"Everything's going to be okay. He will be fine," he said, reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear.

"I don't think I will be," I sighed, letting the tears finally spill over my eyes and onto my cheeks, rivers it seemed pouring out of my heart and onto the floor.

Tate frowned and pulled me to him, "I know it sucks but you're not alone. I'm here, it's going to be okay."

I cried into his shirt, holding on to him and letting out all of my sadness. This was reality, I needed to find a way to accept it. My brother and my father were alive, that was a good thing. They were hurting, but time would heal their wounds. They would be okay, they would move on. I could watch over them as long as they were here. Tate would too, I knew he would. I also needed to admit to myself that I was dead. Dead. Dead as a doornail.

Tate's hands in my hair were comforting, fingers running through the strands over and over, whispering sweet nothings to me, meant to help me calm down. He felt so guilty for this. That it was somehow his fault because he couldn't save me. He needed to know I didn't hate him, that it wasn't his fault.

I pulled back from him and slid my arms around his neck, "Please stop blaming yourself for this."

"If I'd been there like I said I was going to be…if I had just gotten back one second earlier I could have…"

"I'm not mad at you. I don't blame you."

"You don't?" he asked, looking at me confused.

"No, I don't."

I could feel him getting antsy in my arms, his feet rocking him up and down like he did sometimes when he gets anxious. His hands found their way to my hips, resting there as he shook his head, "You've been so off and on. Hold and cold. Mad and happy. I'm so confused."

"I'm happy, here with you."

"I will be here as long as you want."

"Always, Tate, forever."

His fingers ticked on me, showing that he still wasn't completely satisfied with my answer. He was looking at me, yet looking right through me. He was so complicated, my dark lover, so dangerous yet so vulnerable. I'd never seen him look at anyone else the way he looked at me. It was always fake, what they wanted to see, but with me…it was real.

"I love you," I said, forcing the words out of my mouth before I could change my mind. He needed to know, he needed reassurance and I'd kept it from him so long.

He looked at me, a mixture of shock and happiness playing over his face, a small but relieved "nuhhh" escaping his lips, speechless at my confession. His hands tightened on my hips, pulling me closer to him and kissing me passionately. I stumbled back against the island in the center of the kitchen, my hand going back to steady myself as his lips continued to move against mine. He was kissing me like he never had before, excited and frantic, as if he would stop breathing if his lips left mine. Even though we no longer needed breath to survive. He didn't say a word as he picked me up off the floor and sat me down on the cool surface. His face only left mine occasionally, long enough to take a breath and return to me again. Our hands were moving over each other, fast, desperate. His strong hands were grasping at my back, trying to pull me closer to him, mine digging into his neck and leaving small imprints there.

He moaned out into my mouth, one hand going down to undo his pants and letting himself free. I could feel him against my thighs, hard and ready. He pulled back from me and stuck two of his fingers into his mouth, wetting them before slipping them under my skirt to push them inside of me. I let my head fall back, holding onto his neck for support so I wouldn't fall and whispering his name. He let his fingers stroke me softly, adding to my already damped state, before grabbing onto his hardness and directing it to my entrance. He looked up at me, face twisted in pleasure, needing me badly, wanting my okay before he closed the distance. His hair was askew on top of his head from my hands being tangled in it, sweat beading on his forehead as small breathless sounds were coming from us. I nodded at him to give the okay, pulling his face back to mine and crying out with that first one swift movement of his hips.

He supported my back with one hand, the other slamming down onto the surface to hold himself up as he started to move in and out of me, slowly, carefully. He pressed his forehead against mine, both of us gasping for breath and grasping for each other as he sped up the pace, pounding into me over and over again. He whispered my name, reminding me that he loved me, needed me. I wrapped my legs around him, rising up to kiss him and encourage him to keep going. He felt so good. The intense sensation of him moving inside of me making the pressure build, that burning rising up in me and spilling out through all of my body. He was hot against my skin, making me loose myself in him with each thrust of his hips.

"Tate," I moaned as I lost myself completely, the world falling out from under me as I came, on fire and exploding as he continued to ravish me. I ran my fingers through his hair, trying to concentrate on anything else other than one of his hands skimming its way down my body, cupping me, stoking me, threatening to send me into another fit underneath him.

He strained his neck to press his lips against mine again, taking my lower lip into his mouth and sucking on it before moaning and letting it go. I forced his mouth back to mine and I kissed him roughly, nipping at his lips until I felt the skin break. He growled, resting his forehead against mine and meeting my gaze. His hand slapped the table again, struggling to keep his body moving with mine. I felt the orgasm building in me as he became more forceful, pushing me over the edge again and making me come undone in his hands.

Tate closed his dark eyes, mouth dropping open and letting out a final, "Ahhhh," before falling down on top of me and burying his face in my neck.

"I'm so glad you hear you say that, Josie. I love you."

I ran my fingers through his curls lazily, still hazy from the amazing afterglow of making love, "I can tell. I do, Tate. It's just that saying it makes it real. When you make it real, that's when people get hurt."

"I won't ever hurt you."

"I know."

"You've said it once before…when you were dying," he said, pushing up on his hands to look down at me.

_So that's why he keeps looking at me expectedly when he says it. _"Oh, I didn't remember."

"I didn't want to say anything. I wanted you to tell me on your own, when you were ready," he explained.

I smiled at him, reaching up to kiss him softly on the lips, "I love you, Tate Langdon. Nothing will ever change that."

* * *

**OMG! She told him finally! Sheesh! Haha!**

**Once again, thanks for your lovely comments, you guys keep me going! Please continue to let me know what you think! Let's get those reviews in so I can stay motivated to continue!  
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**The RP is going strong on tumblr, mysticmurderhouse, we are lacking a Tate but hoping to find one soon! Hit us up if you are interested!  
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	4. Chapter 4

_I need to talk to you. –J_

I hit the send button quickly and then erased the text from my father's phone. I shoved it back into the pocket of his coat and walked out of the living room. So much had happened in the past few days and I needed to talk to someone who wasn't too biased. I rounded the corner quickly, running straight into an unfamiliar man.

"Watch where you are going sweetie," he said, leaning back to cross his arms and take me in with his dark eyes. He was taller than me, dark hair, pale skin, and some thick black eyebrows.

"You may consider getting something done about the fucking caterpillar on your forehead," I laughed, pushing past him and into the other room. I normally wouldn't be so rude the first time meeting someone, but none of the other ghosts had bothered to be nice to me so why should I.

"Nice," he answered, clapping his hands together slowly, "a lady shouldn't use such foul language."

I turned back to him and crossed my arms, "Chad I take it?"

"Yeah, how did you guess?"

"I've done my research."

"Not only is she mildly attractive, she's smart as well," he said with a raise of his eyebrows.

"Whatever you say."

"How do you like your new condition?"

I scowled at him, "It's not something I like to be reminded of."

"Honey, I get it. I'm stuck here with a man who doesn't really even love me."

"Sucks for you."

"You don't even know…well you might. What's it like being in love with a monster?"

"Tate's not a monster, he's different now."

He gave me a shocked look, "Oh really now?"

"Yeah, really, now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to find something more valuable to do with my time." I turned around on my heels and started walking over to the steps and I heard him following behind me.

"He killed that man you know."

I froze.

"What man?" I asked.

"The one that killed you. I can't say I blame him though, I'd be pretty pissed off if someone killed the one I loved too."

I spun around to glare at him, "You are so full of shit. You just don't want us to be happy because you and your little boyfriend are miserable."

He took as step towards me, looking down at me condescendingly, "Am I? Well you can believe what you want sweetheart, but that lover boy of yours is not an honest man."

"Screw you."

"Don't offer things you can't follow through with honey. How's that brother of yours? So sad."

"If you lay a hand on him, I swear, you will regret it," I threatened, taking a few long strides towards him and jabbing him in the chest with my finger.

He grabbed my hand and squeezed it hard, "Tsk tsk tsk. So violent."

"Let her go," Tate growled, stepping up beside me and scowling at the taller man.

"Ohhh I'm shaking in my panties. Tate, how nice to see you."

"I said, let her go," he repeated, stepping forward and crossing his arms.

Chad let me go and took a step back, "Feisty."

I grabbed Tate's arm, pulling him back towards me, "Come on, let's go."

He continued to give Chad that dark terrifying stare until I pulled on his arm a second time. He pursed his lips but turned around to follow me, allowing me to take him away from possible confrontation.

* * *

"Maybe you should consider moving out of the house," Moira mused as she bussed throughout the kitchen, pulling things together for Christmas dinner. I'd already made my way through the house, taking in the sparse decorations. Normally, this was my dad's favorite time of the year and I couldn't make him stop the holiday music, every room decorated from top to bottom in tinsel and green and red. This year was different. There was a tree in the living room, a couple of presents sat underneath it, but there were only a few ornaments on it. The rest were still in the box on the far side of the room. Someone had put a wreath on the door and stockings on the fireplace. That was the extent of the Christmas cheer in this house, and this was probably the year that needed it the most.

I'd followed him around the majority of the past few days, knowing that he had time off and wishing he'd take more of an interest in things. If only for Dillon. Tate had been spending more time with Dillon to play games and talk about Christmas, since my dad had been such a Scrooge. We hadn't spent much time together and to be honest, it was kind of refreshing. It gave me time to breath, be more of my own entity than that person attached to Tate. That person that almost hated herself for falling so hard for someone who had done such horrible things. _But not to you, _I reminded myself as I leaned against the doorway of the kitchen and watched my father consider Moira's words.

"Perhaps."

"Mr. Summers, if I may speak freely?"

"Sure."

"I think that Josie would have wanted you to be happy, and you have been anything but that since she passed," she said, her eyes wandering over to me and then back at my father. I nodded at her, she was right. I didn't want to see them gone. I wanted them here with me, so I knew they were safe. Knew that they were okay, but they would soon drown in this house. My father had already tried to burn himself on the stovetop, sleepwalking before Moira could step up to stop him. It'd made my heart drop when she told me about it; make me worry myself to death with other negative influences of the house and what they could do. I couldn't be so selfish as to wish them to stay here with me.

"Perhaps," he said again, sitting down on one of the stools at the island and picking up the morning paper.

"She wouldn't want you to be here moping about the place. You need to take care of Dillon, she would have wanted that."

"Yes, she would have."

Ugggg he was frustrating me to no end. He couldn't stay here, they needed to leave. I let out an exasperated sigh and walked over to the window and flung it open, sending the cold winter air into the room. It swirled around the kitchen, making the paper in my father's hand flail about and impossible to read. He tried to steady the paper, but finally gave up and sat it down on the table.

"Stupid wind has picked up," he mumbled and got up to close the window.

"It doesn't normally get this cold," Moira commented, trying to hide a smile as she turned back to her cooking.

"We need a good snow. I miss the way the seasons changed back home."

"Perhaps when the holidays are over you could put the house on the market so you and your son can get back to that."

"Perhaps."

_And perhaps, just perhaps, I will find a way to make them leave._

* * *

When I walked back into my bedroom, Tate was there, pacing the floor in a highly anxious state. He was nibbling on his fingernails as if they were the only thing holding him to the ground, eyebrows pulled together in a worried fashion. What I really wanted was to talk to him about what we could do to get my family to move out before something terrible happened to them, but he looked really concerned so I tried to push my own issues away for a minute.

"You're going to burn a hole in the floor," I commented, closing the door behind me.

He paused and looked at me, dropping his hands to the side as if I surprised him, "Oh hey."

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing."

"Well, I know what you could be doing," I said, walking over to him and taking his hands in mine.

"What's that?"

I bit my lip and ran his hands along my thighs, "I want you to touch me."

Indecision flashed across his eyes as I moved his rough hands under the hem of my short jean skirt. His hands gripped me for a second, and then he pushed himself off me and walked across the room. He started biting his nails again and pacing, cursing at himself under his breath.

I pouted, "You don't want me?"

"Of course I do Josie, damn it," he growled.

I took a couple of steps towards him and reached out to touch his arm, wanting to figure out what was wrong with him. He seemed nervous, angry. He'd been fine earlier. He jerked away from me and ran his hands through his hair. His fingers stopped at the bottom of his curls, lacing in them and pulling on it hard.

"What's wrong?"

He dropped his hands from his hair, going to his sides and balling up in fists, "We can't do this right now."

"Why not?" I asked, taking another step towards him.

He continued to back away from me until he bumped into the closet door, "Because I need to tell you something, damn it."

"What are you talking about?"

He raised his dark eyes to meet mine, cold and empty, "I don't want to hurt you."

"You're not going to hurt me," I insisted, still trying to understand what the hell he was talking about, "just talk to me."

I didn't know what was wrong with him but I was determined to find out. We'd been over this a thousand times before. I reached out to him slowly, to take him in my arms. My hand brushed across his shirt and he closed his eyes. In a second, he reached out to me, wrapping his hand around my throat and grabbing me. His eyes snapped open, wild and angry, his shoulders heaving up in down as if he was fighting off some horrible urge. I'd never seen him looking at me like this before, anger directed towards me. I cried out, throwing my hands up to grasp at his hand, try to remove it from me.

"Tate," I whispered, my eyes squinting as I felt his fingers tighten on my throat.

His arm jerked me closer to me, still holding on to my neck, and lowered his face to mine, "Am I a monster?"

"No, you're not."

"Then why do I keep having these horrible fantasies?"

I shook my head, "I don't know what you're talking about. I thought those thoughts weren't as bad as they use to be."

"They were few and far between, and then you died and you weren't around as much. And now it's like they are back…. Now I can't get it out of my head," he said, voice dropping an octave as he talked.

"What-what kind of things are you thinking about?"

"Killing people. I'm sick, Josie. I'm wrong."

"No you're not; you've just been closer to death than you have been in a while. Just calm down," I said, dropping my arms to the side and trying not to show him fear. This was Tate, he was angry but he wouldn't hurt me. Would he? He'd never directed his anger at me before.

He shook his hair to clear his mind and then smacked himself in the head with his free palm. "Ugggg," he roared, swinging me around and slamming me against the wall with a thud, his hand still at my neck.

"Tate, please," I whimpered, no longer able to hide that part of me that was growing scared, more so with every inch he moved closer.

He stepped in closer to me, "Do I scare you?"

"Yes."

"That makes me so hot. When you're scared, bleeding, and hurting because of me. What the fuck is wrong with me?" he demanded.

"It's okay, Tate. You wouldn't really hurt me."

"Wouldn't I? Are you sure?"

I nodded, closing my eyes as he leaned into me and planted a rough kiss on my lips. He was really starting to scare me. I tried to push myself against him, away from the wall, but he pushed me back against it, his body pressing me into the wood. Bringing my leg up to kick him, he grabbed it with one of his hands and maneuvered his body to force me against the wall so I couldn't move.

"I want to do bad things to you, Josie. Dirty things," he whispered into my neck, sucking onto the skin there and trailing his hand roughly around my body to cup my ass, force me against him.

"It's okay, I like it rough," I said, unsure if I was trying to convince him or myself that it was normal. The way I let him control me, push my limits.

He pulled back from me, those wild eyes, intense and scary, focused on me. "It's not okay; if I hurt you I'd hate myself forever. I love you. I'd do anything for you. I'd kill for you. I have killed for you."

_What?_

I tried to pull back from him but he had a hold of my arms and wasn't letting go, "You haven't killed anyone. What are you talking about?"

"I need to tell you something."

"Anything."

"That man that killed you. I murdered him. He shot you and I lost my damned mind."

My mouth fell open in shock, my body freezing underneath his hand. Chad was telling the truth. "But-but you promised me."

"I know what I promised, Josie. But he killed you. My instincts took over, I snapped. I rammed him through with the fireplace poker and I broke his neck. I pounded his face in. I couldn't take it."

"Oh my god," I whispered, feeling the tears rising in my eyes. What he was describing was awful. Horrifying.

"I couldn't take it. I couldn't, until you said my name. You brought me back from that dark place, Josie."

"No," I whimpered, tears trailing down my face as I tried to come to grips with what he was telling me. He'd killed someone again. I hadn't been enough to stop him.

"Don't cry, don't cry," he cooed and began running his thumb along my jawline, eyes growing a little softer as he looked at me.

"Tate…you promised."

"I said I know!" he screamed, loud, only inches away from my face, "What if I lose myself with you? What if we are fucking and I lose it? I've come close before, that crazy side of me wanting to take over. It's a constant battle and I don't want to hurt you. I do. I don't. I do. I can't," he explained, arguing with himself and pushing away from me. He let go of me, walking over to the chair nearby and flipping it over. Tate continued to rampage the room, knocking things over and roaring like an animal.

I felt my hands fly up to my throat, still feeling the burn where his hand once was, tight and unyielding, the tears stinging my eyes from his confession. I had to fight my body from falling to the floor from the force of air that left my body, breath that I hadn't realized I was holding coming out of me in forceful waves. My hand searched for the wall behind me to steady myself and try to focus ground myself and sort my thoughts.

He had killed someone. After promising me no more murders, no more insanity. Rammed them through with a fire poker and snapped their neck. _Jesus. _He was still having homicidal fantasies, ones he hadn't talked to me about. He was dangerous, yet there was fear in his eyes, in his voice, as well as the anger.

He was being honest with me, something I'd demanded from the start, and something he hadn't given me in the past. The person he'd killed was someone who was an intruder in my home, killing me and being a threat intruder in my home. What would I have done if someone had been threatening him? Killed him in front of me? Would it have broken down that last part of my own sanity?

Part of me was irritated for him breaking his promise, but I should have been more furious than I was. Also, part of me was scared; he'd just had me by the throat and telling me how dangerous he was. I should have been fuming and going off of him. But I wasn't. I was more worried than anything, watching his lose his mind in my bedroom, drowning in the madness, losing himself in the darkness that was swallowing him down in front of me. He'd come so far, I couldn't lose him to it again.

I took a couple of slow steps towards him, my voice low and soft, concern playing over my face, "Tate, sweetie, calm down."

He stopped knocking things over and looked back at me, "I'm fucked up. You deserve better."

"I'm not scared of you," I insisted, moving towards him without thinking, "I like it when you're rough."

The tears were forming in his eyes, spilling out of the black abyss and down his face. He wiped at them, trying to hide them from me and running his hands through his hair, "I've done bad things. Such bad things. Why do I do these things? Why do I do that?"

I closed the distance between us, wrapping my arms around his waist and laying my head on his chest, "Tate, you were different then. Tortured and miserable, high on drugs and you snapped. You need to stop thinking about your past. It's over. And I'm not mad at you for killing that man. He killed me in front of you."

"But that doesn't make it okay, does it?" he asked, unsure as he pulled back from me, searching my face for an answer.

"I don't know but I'm not mad at you. I'm just glad you are being honest with me."

He furrowed his eyebrows, raising a soft shaky finger to my throat, "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," I said, raising up on my toes and kissing him.

He pulled back, disgust playing over his face, "I'm a fucking psychopath. I'm sick."

"No you're not. You have feelings."

"Just for you," he argued, "Everything else is all a show. I don't give a shit about anyone else."

"You do too. For Addie, Beau. Even Dillon. I see the way you look at me when you talk about them. You love them, Tate, care for them. Just like you care for me. Psychopaths don't care about anybody. They can't love. You do."

"If I loved you, I wouldn't enjoy the way you look when you are letting me control you, the way the blood trickles out of your lips, your neck, for me. I'm a monster."

"You're not a monster, stop saying that," I exclaimed, grabbing his face and making him look at me.

He looked down at me in frustration, "It wasn't too long ago you were trying to convince me that this wasn't real. That I was heartless."

"I was wrong," I sighed, pulling him to me and kissing him, long and lovingly. I pressed my body to his, my hands wrapping around his neck and tangling in his hair. "I was wrong, Tate. So wrong. You're safe, I love you."

His hands ran down my body, gripping my hips and pulling me closer to him. Tate returned my kiss, his mouth warm and desperate on mine. I closed my eyes and let him take me over, wanting nothing more than to make him see how much I trusted him, knew he wouldn't hurt me. It was me and him, for always, just like he'd said. He had a dark side, but he protected me. He was emotional but this was his safe place, he could let out that rage and confusion here with me. I was his strength, the thing that grounded him in reality, returned sanity to him when he was lost.

I parted my lips, inviting him to deepen the kiss. He moved me backwards across the room as I held on him; let him lead me, until we bumped against my computer desk. I reached back to steady myself on the wood, feeling it pressing into the small of my back. His hands ran underneath the back of my shirt, fingernails grazing my skin and making me shudder in his arms. Those rough fingers peeled my shirt up over my head, his mouth leaving mine for just a second to toss it to the floor before kissing me again. I scrambled for the buttons of his jeans, undoing them and dropping them to the floor. I buried my mouth in his neck, feeling his fingers tighten on my body, squeezing me, claiming me as his.

"Fuck, Josie. I want you so badly," he groaned, pushing my skirt up and out of the way.

"Then take me."

His nails dug into my ass, pulling me to him and making me yelp as I felt the skin break. I heard him curse against my skin before stepping back from me, running his hands over his face in frustration, "We can't do this. Not right now."

"Tate, please," I whispered, grasping for him again.

He jerked away from me and shook his head, "No, not while I've got these bloodthirsty visions in my head."

"Yes," I insisted, pulling him back to me and kissing him, demanding the attention from him as my hand ran down his body. I took him in my hand, stroking him and heard him let out frustrated cries. I dropped down to my knees, whispering his name and looking up at him. As my tongue ran up the length of him, he closed his eyes, biting his lip, and thrusting his hands into my hair. I had a second before he pushed himself down my throat, gagging me for a second before I could recover and move against him like I knew he liked.

A few minutes later, his fingers tangled tighter in my hair, curling at the base and pulling me to my feet. I went willingly, grasping for his body as he pulled me into his hard embrace. My heart was pounding in my chest, my breath coming in erratic spasms as he sat back down onto my desk chair, taking me with him.

"Come here," he growled as I plopped down into his lap, my hands desperate at his neck as he kissed me, moved my hips over the hardness of him. He lowered me onto him slowly, excruciatingly so and he let out a deep moan. He continued to grasp my hips, rocking them back and forth in his lap. He felt so good, filling me up, stretching me around him and making me gasp from the pressure of him. I tried to rock against him, fulfill the need to have in moving in and out of me, but his hands were unwavering on me, making me move at his pace, his mouth tracing unidentified patters along my neck, my chest.

"Tate, please."

"Isn't this enough for you, Josie?"

"I want you, harder, please."

He chuckled, low in his throat and tugged on my hair, baring my throat to him, "Tell me how much you want me. How there won't ever be another guy that is enough for you."

He lowered his mouth to my neck, sucking my soft skin, nipping it, marking it as his own. I was putty in his hands, "Yes, Tate, I want you, I need you. There's no one else, couldn't be after you, only you, Tate. I love you. Take me. _Please."_

I could feel his teeth sinking into my neck, his nails into my hips, making me cry out in pain, pleasure. Always mixing together to confuse my senses with him knowing he wouldn't really hurt me but scaring me enough to lose my senses. He felt so good. He was good. Perfect. My Tate.

"Hold on to me," he instructed, moving to the edge of the chair and balancing there. I grasped at his neck as he encouraged my legs upwards to wrap around him. He leaned me backwards, over his legs, his strong hands holding onto my hips and my back. He held me, to keep me from falling, as he eased out of me, "oh yes."

Tate moved slowly, inching into me, out of me, my body contracting around him to keep him going. I closed my eyes, letting him fuck me lazily, and let the unintelligible moans escape from me. This was what heaven had to feel like, in the arms of my angel, my body feeling as if he was touching every inch of me, goose bumps breaking out across my skin. I was his safe place, and he was my fire, lighting me to ignite under his touch, his fingers, every caress awakening new parts in my being, parts of me that hadn't come alive before him. I could feel the pressure building inside of me now, my breath coming in quicker spurts through my mouth, hot on his neck, my legs holding him closer.

"You gonna come for me?" he asked, smile playing over his face as he looked down at me.

"Yes, for you, only you," I breathed, barely able to get the words out before the world fell out from under me, his calloused hands the only thing holding onto me as the fire ripped through my body, eating me alive, taking me under as he coaxed me on. He gave one final push before kissing me on the forehead, telling me to stand up. Get up? Was he crazy? There was no way I could move after the pleasure that had just taken me over from his slow relentless assault.

But he was taking me into his arms, steadying me long enough to turn me around and push me over onto the desk. My hands flew out, catching me before I could hit the hard wood. He grabbed my hips, pulling me back against him and leaned over me, his chest running along my back as he thrust into me. I could feel the weight of him to top of me as he moved, his hands at each side of my body to give him leverage on the desk.

"I love you, fuck, you feel so good."

"Taaaaaaate, ugh," was all I could muster because I was still trying to recuperate from my earlier orgasm and his hips were moving urgently, his mouth closing over my shoulder and threatening to send me into oblivion again.

Still he picked up the pace, quicker, faster, and harder. I reached up to grab ahold of his hair, curling my fingers in his locks and begging him to come undone, lose the darkness in me, give up all that anger and despair. And he did, shouting out and pounding into me under he gave one final grunt, his pace slowing to a creep as the waves came crashing around him and pulled me under again.

We lay there, shaky legs holding us up, bodies sprawled out on the desk, both of us covered in sweat and tears. I loved the feel of him on me, smothering me, keeping me safe. I tried to catch my breath, let it come back to me even though it wasn't essential. I didn't have to breathe, didn't have to feel this pounding of blood in my ears, but it was so right, making this moment perfect as he removed himself from me.

"Jos, you okay?"

I nodded, using my hands to push myself up and turn around to sit on the edge of the desk. My black hair fell over my face and I brushed it out of the way. It was a mess, but so was his, slick and glistening against his face. I giggled, reaching out to push his bangs over to the side, "You're awfully sexy there."

He smiled at me, letting a laugh escape from him and looked down at the ground bashfully, "I don't know what I do without you."

"Jerk off for eternity."

"I'm serious," he said, smile fading and being replaced by that painful expression, "You're all I've got, all I want." He reached out to me, cupping my cheek in his and kissing me softly on the lips.

"Lay with me?"

"Anything you want," he responded, offering his hand to me.

I took it, stumbling off the desk and into his arms. I reached down to pick up his shirt off the floor and threw it over my head. He walked me over to the bed and climbed on top of it, pulling me behind him. I crawled up to where he was, lying down to face him. He took one of my hands in his, lacing out fingers and holding them up to his chest. He snuggled up to them, looking at me and smiling, "So you're not mad?"

"Nope."

"I'm sorry I broke my promise."

"It's okay; I can't promise I wouldn't have killed someone if I walked in on them shooting you."

"Got cha, yea."

He ran his free hand down my body, tracing along the now fading bruises along my hipbones.

"I'm going to miss that," I whispered.

"What?"

"Your love marks on me."

He scowled, "They always look so brutal, man. I don't miss em at all."

"But they feel so good," I smiled, biting my lip and looking back up at him.

"I'm not sure which of us is more fucked up, Josie."

I shrugged, "I'm pretty sure it's you."

"Whatever you say, Princess of the Darkness," he said, mimicking Dracula's thick accent and failing miserably.

I laughed out loud, throwing my head back, "That's horrible. Stop it."

"Vat do you mean?" he asked, wiggling his eyebrows at me.

I laughed again, harder this time, "Give it up, it's so bad."

"I vant to suck your blood," he exclaimed, jumping up from the bed and onto me, giving out a roar and burying his face in my neck. His hands ran along my sides as he did, tickling me and making my body jerk underneath him.

"Nooooo Tate stop!"

The laughter erupted from him, ecstatic and childish, as he continued to torcher me. I shoved my hands at his body, trying to push him off me as I laughed uncontrollably, trapped underneath him, his knees firmly planted on either side of me.

"I give! I give! I'll do anything! Just stop!" I begged, bucking more and more to try to throw him off.

"Anything?" he asked, freezing and looking down at me mischievously.

I nodded frantically, trying to capture my breath during his pause but preparing myself for another assault.

He lowered his face to mine slowly, hands sneaking up to cradle my face in them, "You are so beautiful in my shirt."

"Maybe I will keep it."

"I bet it'd look even better on the floor," he growled, kissing me and running his hands underneath the thick sweater.

A voice in the hallway made me pause, "I won't be but just a second, Mr. Summers. I will just get my stuff and leave."

"Who the hell-" Tate started, sitting up and looking over towards the door.

I put my hand over his mouth to shush him and sat up beside him, eyes focused on the figure creeping into my room and shutting the door. She was skinnier than I remembered; her red hair was styled into spikes in the back, straight and long in the front. Her pink plaid pea coat fell to her knees, where her black boots peeked out from under them. Her dark eyebrows were pulled together in uncertainty, her eyes scanning through the room as she too a few cautious steps inside.

I pulled myself up from the bed, having to brush Tate's hands off me as I did so. I perched my body on the edge of the comforter and watched Mandie take a few more steps inside.

She raised her green manicured nail to her mouth and nibbled her nail as she looked around. I wasn't sure what she was searching for, if she was searching for something. "Josie?" she asked her voice quiet and unsure.

Her eyes traveled the spacious room, body turning to face the closet on the far side before I let myself speak, feel the shudder of my body as I let myself be seen, "Hey."

She jumped up, twirling around with a look of fear on her face as her gaze settled on me. She threw her hand up to her chest, "Holy shit, you scared me half to death."

"Sorry, I've not really…I'm kinda new to this ya know," I said, chewing on my lip and lowering my eyes to the worn hem on the edge of my skirt.

"That sweater is hideous. Green strips? Really?" she asked, taking a careful step towards me.

"It's not mine," I laughed, looking behind me to see Tate's unamused stare.

"What are you looking at?"

"Oh, nothing," I said, realizing that he hadn't made himself known to her. I looked back over at her.

"You're really here, huh?"

"Yea somewhat…"

"Do, do you feel dead?"

"No, not really."

"It's no different?"

"Well, yes and no?"

"No as in…." she said, turning her hand over a few times as if to encourage me to finish the sentence.

"No as in I'm still like a living breathing version of me…except not. I still hang out, read some, and listen to music. Tate and I, we still um…"

She scrunched her nose, "Ew, how does that work?"

"I dunno," I shrugged, "But it's really intense."

"Oh my god," Tate commented from behind me, still not amused, but I could picture him rolling his eyes.

"So yes as in…" Mandie continued.

"Yes as in I can't show myself to my dad…or Dillon. Yes as in I can't leave this stupid house. Yes as in I can't see my friends or to go school or sleep."

"Well, that sucks."

"Parts of it."

"I wasn't sure if um, if that text was really from you," she explained, eyes lowering to the ground and filling up with tears, "I mean, I'd hoped…but ya know."

"Don't cry," I whispered, puling myself to my feet and stepping over to her.

She took a step back and shook her head, "No don't, this is hard enough."

"I'm not going to hurt you."

"I know…but you don't know what it's like. I saw you, in the casket, saw them put you in the ground."

I couldn't say anything to that, what I could possibly say to understand what she was going through. It was stupid of me to text her, reach out to someone who was probably hurting just as much as my family. She was my best friend, someone I'd gotten so close to in such a short time.

"I just don't understand how you can be here. I thought, maybe, there was a better place for people when they died. Ya know, for good people. Like you."

"Maybe there is, Mandie. It's just this house. There's something different about it."

"But it's not fair!" she exclaimed, face raising to meet mind, the tears glistening in her green eyes as she continued to scream, "Is it? That you're stuck here, with crazy people and Lord knows what else!?"

"No but-"

"_That boy_, he's going to take you down with him when this house loses its hold on you. He's evil. Do you think the Devil is really some red horned monster, Josie? No, he's beautiful; he was an angel, pretty damn high ranking one at that."

"Are we really going back to this?" I demanded, crossing my arms and glaring at her.

"It always comes back to this, your safety. And you're not safe here." She reached into her black messenger back, pulling out a thick old book and shoving it at me, "This is the answer."

I looked down at the ragged book in my hands, dark brown cover with no title, no author. The edges of it were worn and the pages yellowed, a musty smell drifting up to my arms as I opened the cover.

_Ravencroft Book of Shadows._

I furrowed my eyebrows, flipping to the next page and reading the contents written in a hard to read cursive script.

_This is the manuscript of Willow Ravencroft, daughter of the great Tara Saunder and Leon Ravencroft. Here I will document the spells of which I have been taught in my youth, family incantations, and those I will learn until the day I die. This book shall be burnt upon that time as to not reveal the secrets of our coven. If this shall make it into the wrong hands, I pray that it will be destroyed. Its contents are not to be taken lightly._

"What the hell is that?" Tate demanded, jumping up from the bed and coming to stand beside me.

I ignored him, eyes focused on my friend, "Where did you get this?"

"I found it in a book store, my cousin use to practice Wiccan and I thought maybe we could find something in here. Move you into the light? Free your soul from this house?"

"I don't fucking think so," Tate exclaimed and grabbed the book out of my hand. Mandie jumped back from me and gasped as the book flew across the room and slammed against the door.

"You can't mess with this shit," he said as his body quivered and revealed himself to Mandie. His eyes moved to her, angry and cold.

She shifted her gaze away from us, no doubt more than freaked out by his random appearance, "Listen, _you, _you can't tell me what to do."

"Maybe not but I'm not going to let you pull Josie into some nature loving bullshit."

"It's not bullshit, it's real. I've seen it."

"But you don't know what the hell you are doing," he insisted, shoving his hands into his pockets in an attempt to calm himself down.

I laced my hand through his arm and pulled myself closer to him, "its okay, Tate, it's something to think about."

"No fucking way."

"Do you want to be stuck here forever?" I asked.

He didn't answer me, just pursed his lips as if I'd never said anything and continued to glare at my friend.

"Fine, don't answer me, but I know the answer is no. She may have found us a way out of here."

"I just found this the other day so I will need a while to flip through it," Mandie explained, carefully moving over to where the book laid without taking her eyes off of Tate.

"Fine, sure," I replied.

"If I find something, I can just stop back by?"

"Yeah, of course."

She reached down and picked up the book and shoved it back into her bag, "I need something to take with me or your dad will think I lied about picking up something."

"Yea go for it," I said, waving my arm around the room to show she could take anything.

She reached over to my pile of books and picked a random book and tucked it into her arm. As she walked towards the door, I could see the tears filling her eyes again. She glanced over at where I was and let out a loud sigh. It was as if she was trying to decide something in the few steps that it took her to change her walking path to me. She ran across the room and pulled me out of Tate's arm and into hers, holding me tight and sobbing into my neck. I raised my arms up to return the hug, stroking her back as she continued to cry. As he body slowed down its spasms, she pulled back, wiping her face with her coat and ran out the door.

* * *

_**Sorry for such a long time between updates! Time and life ran away with me, but this is pretty lengthy for your wait! I hope you enjoyed it!** **Next part up soon!**_


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